WEBVTT

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Because this book
deserves a prayer,

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because this prayer is
just what's left over,

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grief, not even
cognizant of her spoon.

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God's gee-gaws and gimcracks.

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We say God please, we
say, why God, and go

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to hell in a handbasket, God.

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We say, God if you do just this.

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A basic blessing, a fortune,
finally the snake won.

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It took all day for him
to heft the salamander

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onto the shore in
front of my pack

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and began and latching its jaws.

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I didn't stay for
the finishment.

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I strapped on Sunday's shoes.

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I wanted your million
bucks breedloaf.

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I tried to teach my
children's wrongs rights.

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In this diagram, the
heart is not listed.

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I begged for the trick, cross
hatching blisters, a la Jesus

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Christo.

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Because grandmother took
the Bible with father's

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calligraphy and tucked
it into her casket.

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How does mount holy
yolk hold her tatters?

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Smart custard of a woman.

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Come, turn this body
out like a pocket.

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And then my own child body
leaving me, in all liquid,

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as a memory nested
in long black hair.

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Mother, sick herself,
committed to a deathbed

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overlooking the avocado tree.

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Sister brought each fruit.

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Four times I pulled
the needle out.

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I watched baby born.

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A man next to me groaned
to a yellow sound.

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The sound, perhaps malaria, book
bodied to pupae, pulp, papyri.

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The head a slice of
tongue, never sick again,

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never that rill again.

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